


So Close, No Matter How Far

by SilverFountains



Series: Royal Menage a Trois [11]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Durincest, Humiliation, Kissing, Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Shame, Sibling Love, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili has fled Erebor in fear of his life after assaulting the prince-consort, his very own brother. Winter is falling and he needs to find shelter soon, somewhere where Thorin will not look for him. However, will the fate that awaits him in the Woodland Realm be any better than that back at home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fili

He had not been in his right mind when he’d left Erebor. He clearly hadn’t been in his right mind before that either. What had possessed him that had made him force himself onto his little brother like that? He had spent his entire life looking after Kili, defending him, protecting him. And now it turned out the biggest threat to his brother had been him. He had considered throwing himself off the battlements to end this shame that he had brought upon his family. But he had been even too cowardly to carry out that honourable act. So he had felt the only other option was to pack his bags and leave the home that they had fought so hard to reclaim. He would surrender his claim to the throne and never return to Erebor. It would be the only way to let his brother have the happiness he deserved, without Fili’s poison tainting him.

He has no idea where he is actually going to. He really doesn’t know Middle Earth that well. He has spent most of his life in the Blue Mountains and had only left the safety of that home when he had joined Thorin’s company on their quest to Erebor. That journey had involved months of running away from wargs, orcs and goblins, getting lost in spider infested forests and being swept away by a raging river and as such Fili hadn’t exactly been able to orientate their whereabouts; he’d just followed wherever Gandalf and Thorin were leading them.

However, he is a seasoned warrior and bright enough to realise that he isn’t going to make it far out on his own in the wild. He knows there are Longbeards in the Iron Hills to the East, where his kin Dain rules. But Thorin is on good terms with his second cousin so he doubts he would be welcomed there. There are rumours of dwarves in Ered Mithrin to the North, but there are also dragons there and he really does not fancy risking such an encounter.

He knows he can hunt and track well enough to keep himself alive for some time, but he cannot stay out in the open air for long. Winter is coming and even his thick pelts and general dwarvish resilience will not be able to protect him for long from the snow and frost that already hang thick in the air. Besides, the season means that it will be more difficult to stay hidden and not leave tracks and also prey will become increasingly harder to find.

He sighs as he warms his hands at the small fire he has made. There is nothing for it. He can seek shelter in some of the human settlements, but it will be easy enough for Thorin’s scouts to track him down there and drag him back in shackles. So either he goes back willingly and faces his uncle’s fury and the punishment he will deal him with his head held high or he goes to the one place he thinks Thorin will not follow him.

He has no idea what fate would await him in the Woodland Realm. There is enough animosity between the dwarves of the House of Durin and the royal line of the Silvan Elves to raise a significant question over the welcome he will receive there. But he doubts it will be any worse than what Thorin will do to him if he returns to Erebor. All he can see when he closes his eyes is the rage on his King’s face and the silent threat he had uttered at him. He is not sure that Thorin would actually kill him - although he would be perfectly within his right to do so for assaulting his Consort such - but the least he can expect is exile. In which case he might as well save his uncle the trouble and choose his own destiny.

The next problem is that he isn’t quite sure how to reach the Woodland Realm. He knows the entrance lies on the right side of Mirkwood, closest to Erebor, and if he follows the Forest River it must take him right into Thranduil’s kingdom since that is how they got out of it the last time. However, he also knows the entrance to the Woodland Realm is hidden to those who didn’t know how to find it.

If nothing else he will just have to make enough fuss to ensure he is noticed – and hopefully not killed – by the elven patrols and taken to the Elven King that way.

Satisfied with that plan Fili decides to try and get some sleep while he can. He cannot be far from the edge of the forest and if he continues at his current travelling speed he could reach the elven kingdom by nightfall the following day.

***

He supposes the idea has worked well enough. He had managed to enter the woodland kingdom as planned and attracted the required attention to gain him access to the subterranean realm of King Thranduil. Except that he isn’t taken to Thranduil, but instead thrown straight into one of the cells as “just another stinking dwarf”.  

He considers shouting at his guards that he is a son of Durin, but then thinks better of it. Perhaps it’s just as well that he is treated as an anonymous prisoner.  He doesn’t suppose his royal lineage will bring him any favours here, in fact quite the opposite. So he swallows his pride as he deals with the whispered insults and sneers from his fair-haired guards as they shove food at him.

Actually the food isn’t that bad at all despite the distinct lack of meat. And it’s dry and so far safe here. He can deal with this for a while. Until the Silver King will see him.

***

“Well well,” Thranduil looks him up and down. Five days have passed before Fili is dragged from his cell and pushed to his knees in front of the large throne. “It seems my lands continue to attract vermin.”

Fili keeps his eyes firmly focused on the floor. He has no intention to cause insult by being disrespectful to the Elven King.

Thranduil leans himself forward slightly as he stares intensely at him. “There is something familiar about you.” Fili’s hearts starts so beat so fast he fears that the king might hear it. The rustle of the silvery garments indicates that Thranduil has risen from his throne and moments later his boots step into Fili’s vision.

“Look at me, dwarf.” The phrase is softly spoken, but no doubt an order that Fili is to obey. He raises his head slightly as he glances at the ice blue eyes of the elfking. Thranduil has bent himself low to look at Fili’s face now and his hand cups his chin as he yanks Fili’s head up further.

“Durin’s eyes.” The cold smile is both enchanting and terrifying. “You are Thorin’s kin.  His nephew.” And he brings his face even closer to Fili’s as he stares deep into his eyes. “His heir.” Thranduil lets go of Fili’s chin and steps around him. Fili isn’t allowing his eyes to follow him, but the sensation of the tall elfling so close behind him is making him shiver.

“Now what would bring Thorin’s heir to my realm?” the soft clear voice is close to his ear. He jumps as the king draws in a sharp breath through his nostrils. “You smell worse than your kind normally does. You look like you’ve been on the road for some time. Where are your guards?”

“I am alone,” Fili answers softly.

“Alone?” Thranduil laughs softly. A sound like something between the jingle of silver coins and ice breaking. “I cannot imagine the Mountain King would send his precious nephew to me alone.”

“Thorin did not send me. He does not know I am here.”

Their noses almost touch as Thranduil seeks the truth from his eyes. “He is angry with you,” the Silver King establishes. “You have left Erebor because you fear him.” His eyes narrow, “What could the heir of Thorin Oakenshield have done, that would warrant such wrath from his king?” Their eyes lock and then that icy smile returns to Thranduil as he walks back towards his throne and reseats himself casually.

He rubs his long fingers along his chin as he carefully observes the dwarf knelt before him. “I believe it has something to do with the black-haired archer. The King’s Consort.” Fili squirms inside. How does this otherworldly creature see right through him like that? “Kili.” The name of his brother rolls and bounces across the caves like a gemstone. “Indeed his looks seem to cause no end of trouble for your king. He isn’t very dwarflike is he?”

“He is a dwarf alright,” Fili scowls now, his voice betraying his anger. He will not have this elf insult his brother. But all it earns him is more laughter.

“You have feelings for him,” Thranduil continues to draw the truth from somewhere that Fili cannot see. “More than that of a brother alone. I know your kind considers such relations honourable. Ah, but Thorin took him from you. Took him to his bed, made him his Consort.”

Fili will not lift his gaze, his body rigid with anger and fear at how transparent his darkest and most private troubles are to this elf.

“You laid your hands on his treasure.” The statement stabs at Fili’s heart like a dagger. Thranduil laughs loudly now, clearly enjoying seeing the dwarf prince squirm and probably more so the thought of Thorin’s own nephew having caused him such insult.

When the laughter dies down and no further words are spoken for some time, Fili dares a glance up. “Stand up,” comes the quiet order and Fili obliges. “What do you seek from me?”

“Nothing but food and shelter, King Thranduil of the Wood-Elves. I will work for you. I am a skilled fighter. I can mine. I can forge.”

Thranduil eyes darken as he considers the request. “You must think me a fool, prince Fili of Durin, son of Orin. You ask me to hide a fugitive of the Mountain King? His very own blood? Why would I take such a risk?”

Fili bows his head. “I beg of you. Thorin will not look for me here. He will have me executed if I return. I will cause you no trouble.”

Thranduil narrows his eyes. “He always was a savage,” he hisses under his breath.

Then he snaps his fingers and the guards step forward from their place in the shadows. Thranduil barks several orders at them in the elven language, too quick for Fili to comprehend, and before he can say another word to the Silver King the two strong elven guards grab him by the arms and drag him out of the throne room.

***

He had expected to be taken back to his cell, so the luxurious room had come as a great surprise. Fili had been grateful for the soft bed and fallen asleep almost immediately, weary from the days on the road and being exposed to the elements.

He is awoken by a hissing noise coming from the corridor. It sounds a bit like a cat hissing. Or two cats… He jolts upright as the door to his chamber crashes open. Through the lingering sleep in his eyes he can just about make out the shape of Thranduil’s youngest son and he can hear the rustle of long robes of the Woodland Realm King fade into the distance.

“Get up, dwarf,” Legolas growls at him.

Fili, not sure whether he is a prisoner or a guest here now, bows his head to the prince. “Yes, my Lord.”

The young elven prince snorts at him. “A bath,” and with a mocking grin, “… and a shave,” he orders as he points Fili to the washroom.

Fili stares at him in horror. This elf cannot be serious. “No.” The word is spoken softly, but firmly.

Within two strides the fair prince is in his face. “It was not a request, you orc, but an order. It is bad enough my father is allowing you to stay. But you will not serve me looking like a stinking dwarf.”

Fili wants to wrap his hands around this elf’s neck, but he knows he is burning his bridges fast so he swallows hard. “My Lord, I beg your pardon. My beard, it is a symbol of respect and honour in my culture. Please do not shame me such.”

It earns him a slap across the face. “You insolent rat. Do you want me to throw you out as warg food? Do as you are told!” And with long strides the elf prince leaves his room, slamming the door behind him.

Fili is physically trembling as he stands before the elaborately decorated mirror. The elven blade is sharp and slides easily through the coarse hair. A tear slides down his cheeks as he removes the last bit of his dignity and pride. His face feels strangely cold and vulnerable and the image staring back at him is that of a stranger. How has he fallen so far from grace? With a trembling hand he picks up the two severed braids and wraps them in a small piece of cloth. These are the last reminders of a previous life. A life which he has forfeited and which he must now forget.


	2. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili is awake and carrying out his duties, but his heart and mind are clearly elsewhere. As he struggles to come to terms with his brother's ongoing absence, Thorin is becoming increasingly worried over his lover's troubling behaviour.

Kili is walking and talking but the spark in his deep brown eyes has gone. He goes through the necessary daily motions but Thorin knows his soul is elsewhere. It breaks his heart to see his beloved like this. He would give everything to take away his pain, to bring back that happy careless smile to his face.

It has been two moon cycles now and winter has fallen over the lands. Thorin’s clinging on to the fact that Fili’s body has not been found which he takes as a sign that his nephew must have found shelter somewhere. But even the King is beginning to lose hope for his heir’s safe return. All he can hope for is that Fili is safe someplace else…

He had attempted to make love to Kili but the once. Kili had sought to turn it into a form of self-punishment, ramming himself back hard onto Thorin shouting at him to fuck him harder despite the pain clear on his face. Thorin was normally more than happy to give Kili the rough seeing to he every so often demanded from him, but this had nothing to do with lust, this was purely an act of masochistic self-loathing. And Thorin was not going to indulge this self-hatred and cause him injury. So he had pulled back and grabbed and held a fighting and biting Kili in his strong arms, “No my love, I will not hurt you like that.” And he had stroked Kili’s soft hair through the heaving sobs.

Thereafter Kili had started to regress into almost childlike behaviour. If it hadn’t been such a sad thing to watch it would have been almost cute. He would climb up into Thorin’s lap, his face buried in in his uncle's hair as he played with the long dark braids, wrapping them around his right fingers whilst he was biting at the tip of his left thumb. They had spent many nights like this in front of the fire of Thorin’s chambers in Ered Luin. Of course Kili had been much smaller and lighter then. And Fili would have been sat on the floor, his head resting against Thorin’s knee as his big blue eyes had looked up in awe at his uncle’s face as he had told them stories of dragons and orcs, elves and wizards. The emptiness of that space now lies heavy in Thorin’s chest.

“Remember that day when you got stuck up that oak tree?” Thorin speaks quietly to the dwarf prince in his lap. Every night they have sat like this and every night Thorin has made an attempt to reach Kili in that self-made cocoon of his by recounting stories at him about the days the three of them had spent together in Ered Luin. So far it had been like talking to a rag doll.

But tonight Kili glances up at him and the faintest smile crosses his face as he nods. Thorin barely dares return the smile, afraid to chase it away, as he quietly continues, “You were so little and Fili had dared you to climb the big tree at the back of Balin’s house. You were agile enough, got yourself right up to the top.” He feels Kili snigger softly in his arms. “Couldn’t work out how to get back down again though, could you? All I could hear was Fili screaming his lungs out at you as you were dangling upside down from one of the higher branches. You had absolutely no fear whilst Fili was so positively terrified for you breaking your neck that he’d wet himself.”

There is just the slightest hint of a spark in those big eyes that are staring up at him, the faintest grin around his lips. “You’ve always been a reckless fool.”

“I wasn’t going to fall!”

Thorin just about stifles the sigh of relief at the returned conversation. He attempts to continue in a light-hearted manner, not wanting to put undue pressure on Kili. “No, you weren’t. But you were also not going to come back down. I swear you did it on purpose. Made me climb all the way up to rescue you.”

There is definitely a smile around those lips now.

“It was quite an interesting sight,” Kili chuckles. “Had never seen you do anything like that before.”

Thorin laughs, “That’s because dwarves do not climb trees, _t_ _âcharan_ _-mênu_!” And a broad smile breaks across Kili’s face like the sun through the clouds at the name that Thorin used to call him as a child whenever he used to get himself into trouble with behaviour which Thorin considered undwarvish.

Then Kili presses a soft, loving kiss on Thorin’s lips. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Kili,” Thorin returns the kiss.

The young face under him clouds over again. “Do you think he’s alive?”

They have not spoken about Fili’s fate at all. Thorin had not dared broach the subject himself, afraid to push his consort over the edge. He nods sincerely at Kili. “I do. Fili is smart. He’s a good hunter and a strong warrior. Wherever he’s gone, I feel he is safe.”

“I miss him so.”

Thorin brushes the hair from his nephew’s face as he presses a kiss against his brow. “I know, my love. I do too.”

“I am going to find him.”

Thorin draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He had been expecting and dreading this moment. “I cannot let you…”

“That is not your decision, my King,” Kili interrupts him firmly. “He is my brother and I must find him. You have sent a hundred scouts and I have waited patiently for news. But as none has come, I cannot wait any longer. I know Fili better than anyone. Please, Thorin, do not fight me on this. I will go and I will find him.”

Thorin stares for a long time at the face of his dearly beloved. It breaks his heart to think of Kili following his brother. He cannot risk losing them both, not again. “Then let me come with you. Me and Dwalin. I will not let you go alone.”

The silence stretches between them as Kili fights an internal battle. On the one hand he wants to travel fast and without the burden of anyone else. He knows he’s the best tracker in the kingdom and needs no help with that. But at the same time he knows the roads are dangerous and although he is a great archer, he isn’t as strong a melee fighter as Thorin and Dwalin, who are amongst the greatest warriors of their kind. His greatest fear, however, is that Fili might hear that Thorin himself is looking for him and that it will drive him even further away. But he also does not want to be away from Thorin. What if the worst has happened? He would not be able to deal with that on his own; he cannot even deal with the possibility right now.

“Very well,” he sighs eventually. “But when we find him you will let me go to him alone. You will both report to me tomorrow morning and we leave at first light the day after. I will lead this expedition and you will both obey my command.”

At first Thorin bristles, not used to being spoken to like that. But he bites his tongue before any words spill out. He takes a moment to consider and has to acknowledge that the wild-haired rascal who used to get into such trouble as a dwarfling has grown into a fine warrior. And the fact that Kili is not about to rush out of the gates immediately but plans to prepare properly for their task gives him confidence in his prince. He finds he is actually happy to accept, happy to give Kili the chance to prove himself as a leader.

 And he is glad that he will at least be at his side on this journey.

“Then I had best ready myself,” he says as he gently pushes Kili off his lap. And with a parting kiss he leaves his rooms and goes in search of Dwalin and Balin. He knows they won’t be happy with him, agreeing to such a reckless plan. But like Kili he feels the heavy burden of guilt weighing on his shoulders. He has promised to find Fili and he will honour such a promise above anything else. 

***

‘Not happy’ is quite the understatement. Balin shakes his head at him disapprovingly. “You cannot abandon the kingdom like that, _Ezbaduh_.”

“I am not abandoning my Kingdom,” Thorin growls softly. He has a lot of respect for Balin, but he will not have him tell him what to do. “And it is my duty to ensure the safe return of my heir.”

Balin looks directly at him. “May I speak frankly, Thorin?”

Thorin returns the stare and nods. “You usually do.”

“You’ve got yourself into a right mess, you and your nephews. This love triangle, what will become of this? What will you do when you find him?”

Thorin sighs; he hasn’t decided that yet. His immediate worry is Fili’s safe return. “Bring him back.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know!” Thorin is getting annoyed with all the questions now.

“Would it perhaps not be better if he stayed away for a while? People have started to talk…”

“Then tell them to stop talking or I’ll have their tongues.” Anger is flaring hot in Thorin now. “All I ask, Balin, is that you support Dis as she rules in my absence. I am not asking for your permission or approval. Am I clear?”

Balin lowers his head but shakes it sadly. “Yes, _Thanu men._ I just hope you know what you are doing.”

***

Dwalin is a lot quicker to come round. As his bodyguard he is used to being at Thorin’s side whenever he leaves Erebor regardless of the reason. And his temperament is much similar to Thorin’s, much inclined to follow what he believes is right rather than what others expect of him. However, Dwalin sets his own conditions under which he will undertake this unofficial task for his liege lord. And Thorin knows Kili won’t be happy. 

  
[I am going to find him](http://illyluna.deviantart.com/art/I-am-going-to-find-him-432497642) by [Illyluna](http://illyluna.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tâcharan-mênu = you changeling  
> Ezbaduh = my High Lord  
> Thanu men = my King


	3. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Legolas had a change of hearts about dwarves...

The initial tasks he is given are menial and dirty. But the dwarven crown prince carries them out dutifully and without complaint. He is not afraid to work hard or get his hands dirty as the dwarves do not consider themselves above such matters, no matter what their standing in their society. And although the elven prince continues his barrage of sneers and name-calling, Fili is starting to see a shift in his gaze as he barks orders at him. The initial look of pure disgust and hatred seems to have shifted into something almost appreciative.

Fili is also beginning to learn about the intricacies of elven society as the days turn into weeks. And he finds it surprisingly fascinating. Most of what he had known about these creatures up till now had come from his uncle who clearly had a very one-sided and not very flattering view of them. But actually, the elves are generally pleasant company. Yes, they are much reserved, soft-spoken and graceful. In everything pretty much the opposite to his people who are loud, rowdy, tactile and hot headed. But the elves are also a surprisingly happy race, enjoying the beautiful things in life. They are unbelievably knowledgeable about the widest range of topics. Fili is awestruck when he learns the age of some of the elves he now serves. They span many centuries, far older than the oldest dwarf he knows. He cannot begin to imagine the things they must have seen and heard in their long lives and it fills him with respect, even for the haughty and ill-mannered prince-lord.

“My father tells me you fight with two blades.”

Fili is surprised. Is the elf prince actually making casual conversation with him? “I do, my Lord.”

Legolas brushes past him and walks up to the back wall of the room, where some of the finest elvish weaponry is displayed. He pulls two sleek, curved blades from their holdings and holds them out to Fili. “Show me.”

Fili blinks, unsure where this is going. “My Lord?” he carefully questions as he reaches out to the weapons, afraid to fall into some form of trap that the elf-prince is laying for him.

“You know how to spar, don’t you?” Fili nods as he accepts the blades. They are light, much lighter than his own dwarvish swords, and the curvature creates an unfamiliar balance in the weapons. “Then follow me.” Legolas strides out of the hall, Fili almost jogging to keep up with the fast pace of his long legs.

Fili has not been in this part of the elven kingdom yet. The hall they enter is large and circular and looks like an arena of sorts.

Legolas pulls his own blades from their sheaves on his back and takes a battle stance. “Show me,” he repeats the order.

Fili takes up position. He is wary, still unsure what exactly the prince’s intention is. Before he barely has a chance to ready himself, one of the blades comes swishing at him and he only just manages to parry it.

“Ready yourself!” the elf prince scolds him. “The next one won’t be this gentle.”

Fili snaps out of his confusion and readies himself properly this time. The next two hits are hard and fast and Fili isn’t used to the light elvish blades. He parries the hits alright, but he overcompensates and the force throws him of balance and sends him sprawling across the floor.

Legolas laughs at him. “You pathetic creature. I knew you wouldn’t be any good.”

That does it. Fili may have spent the last few months dragging every last bit of his pride through the mud, but he is still a Durin. He has a guts-full of the insults of this stuck up prince now and since the opportunity to teach the elf a lesson has been presented voluntarily to him, he should take it. He pushes himself to his feet and takes an offending pose now.

Legolas cocks his head at him and moments later their blades glance off one another. “Oh, feisty,” Legolas smirks. “But reckless. Just like that mongrel brother of yours.”

It sends the fire in Fili’s chest blazing, as he spins into a full-blown attack on the elf prince. The room fills with the ringing of blade against blade. The elf prince is quick and lithe, but Fili too is fast and he holds his own well enough.  Furthermore whereas the elf prince is just playing games, the dwarf prince feels like he is defending the honour of his family and bloodline which adds vehemence to his hits.

Legolas is truly surprised at the sword skills of the dwarf. He had heard his father speak of the dwarvish battle skills with reverence, despite his contempt for them, but Legolas never believed him. His previous encounters with the dwarves of Erebor had not been favourable and his opinion of them had been tainted by the animosity between him and the other Durin prince. It strikes him how different Fili seems from his brother. They are like day and night, both in looks and their behaviour. They share the same temperament when provoked, but whereas the black-haired dwarf had appeared to him as an idiot driven by his cock rather than his brain, the blonde seems a lot more sensible and he has truly impressed him as a fighter.

“Why did you leave?” he asks as they take a momentary breather, so far equally matched in their sparring.

Fili looks at him but doesn’t answer. Surely this prince knows why he left. Surely Thranduil would have told him every detail of his dirty little secret. Is this just another attempt to humiliate him?

“Well? Why did you leave Erebor? You are the crown prince, aren’t you?”

“I was,” Fili replies quietly.

“So what happened?”

“Ask your father. I do not want to talk about it.” He expects a sword against his throat for his impudence. But to his surprise the elf prince just stares at him.

“Well, whatever it is, Thorin has lost himself a fine warrior as a result,” and Legolas pats him once on the shoulder, before he sheafs his swords and walks out of the room, leaving Fili dumbstruck. Did the fair elf just give him a compliment?  Did he just touch him on the shoulder, almost like a friend?

It is only then that Fili realises he has no idea where in the Woodland Realm he is or how to get back to his rooms and he chases after Legolas down the long corridor.

***

Fili is awake and getting dressed, readying himself to start his morning duties, when there is a knock on his door.

“Enter!” he calls out. When he looks up he’s surprised to see Legolas, who has never before awaited permission to enter his room.

“ _Gi suilon_ , Fili.”

Fili frowns at the elf prince. What is going on? He’s starting to call him by his name now? He cannot shake this feeling of distrust in the elves that has been instilled in him from a very young age, not at all helped by the initial treatment he’d received at the hands of the elf-prince.

 _“Le suilon, Hir_.” He has started to learn some basic elvish phrases and titles in the last few weeks.

“Legolas,” the prince tells him. “Call me Legolas.”

“Okay… Legolas.”

“You will be joining me on patrol today,” and the prince hands him a stack of outdoor clothes. “Report to me at the front gate in half an hour.”

Excitement flutters through him at the thought of going on patrol with the elves. He hasn’t been in the open air for so many weeks now that he has lost all sense of time. Is it still snowing?

Fili knows that the elvish tailors must have made these especially for him as soon as he pulls the garments on as they fit him perfectly. He looks at himself in the mirror and for the first time since he arrived in Thranduil’s realm a smile crosses his face. He is used now to smooth face staring back at him. And the new clothes give him back something of his old look, something of a warrior rather than a servant.

He doesn’t want to push his luck. So far he has worn his hair smooth and pulled back in the elven style, doing his best to blend in which obviously is never going to happen unless he all of a sudden has a growth spurt of at least a couple of feet. He wonders if he would get away with a small braid? Just a little something to remind him of home.

Home…

He had done his best to forget about Erebor, forget about the life he had chosen to leave behind. But of course he cannot. And Kili… not a day goes by when he doesn’t think about his little brother. Going away, however, had been the right thing to do. Away from the torment of seeing his brother with Thorin every day his burning physical desire for his brother has started to subside. His thoughts have finally given room to other memories now. Brotherly memories of all the good times they had shared together. He knows he’s wronged the both of them. Would they ever be able to forgive him?

He snaps out of his thoughts and readies himself. The braid is fine, almost unnoticeable. But as he turns his head this way and that in the mirror, it fills him with pride. He has liked living with the elves more than he thought he would and things are starting to look up now that the elven prince is starting to treat him with a little more respect. But he is and always will be a dwarf and a Durin and he knows he must not and will not ever deny his heritage and his bloodline again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gi suilon = I greet you (informal)  
> Le suilon = I greet you (formal)  
> Hir = Lord


	4. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And how Thorin came to hate the Elvenking.
> 
> NB. I have shrunk the age gap between Bofur and Kili a little in artistic freedom :)

Kili and Thorin are already bent over the large map spread across the massive oak table when Dwalin and Bofur enter the room.

Kili glances up and glares, but before he has a chance to open his mouth Bofur states firmly, “Where he goes, I go.” The two younger dwarves stare at each other, Kili clearly not best pleased to have another uninvited guest joining him on the road and Bofur, in uncharacteristic defiance of his senior in rank.

Thorin and Dwalin also exchange looks, somewhat bemused at how the two younger dwarves who were both once famed for getting into trouble with their elders have developed into these strong-willed adult warriors.

There is only forty years between Bofur and Kili but more importantly they are both from the generation that was born and raised in Ered Luin. Although the age gap and background would have been too great for the two to have had many dealings with each other before the journey to Erebor, their tribulations as part of Thorin’s company and especially their time together in Esgaroth had created a strong bond between the two dwarves. Which is why Kili in the end shrugs, “as long as you all do as you’re told,” and bends himself back over the map again.

Thorin is relieved, having expected much more of a scene from his partner. He smiles a reassuring smile at Dwalin, before he starts to point out where his scouts have already searched.

It is a good few hours before they have mapped out what they know. First they had drawn a radius of how far they believed Fili could have travelled by now, assuming he is on foot. It stretches frighteningly far, all the way to the Misty Mountains. But they must allow for the snowy weather and assume that Fili has had to seek shelter quite early on on his journey. They are all in agreement that it is unlikely Fili would have travelled east since the only place to go are the Iron Hills and Dain would have informed Thorin by now if his nephew had appeared there. Kili doesn’t believe his brother would have gone north to lands unknown to him.

“Mirkwood,” he finally decides, prodding his finger at the forestry section of the map.

Thorin’s eyes narrow and darken. “Thranduil...” he hisses under his breath.

“It would make sense,” Kili hushes him. “Although our scouts did venture to the borders, they were turned away by the elven scouts. If Thranduil has agreed to provide him shelter – and he better has! – he would never have told you.”

Dwalin looks at Thorin, who looks like he is about to burst into flame. “The lad has a point, Thorin. It is the only place I can see on the map where yer scouts have not been able to search every crevice. And Thranduil wouldn’t pass on an opportunity to thwart ya.”

They all jump as Thorin slams a fist onto the table and swears,” _Khak âr oinâch, tûlli shirumund_ ,“ as he brings his right hand to his temple, fingers pressed against the thumb except for the erect little finger. Bofur’s mouth falls open at both the spoken and silent curses.

“Dwalin, ready our weapons,” Kili orders, wanting them out of the room since Thorin is clearly about to blow his top. “Bofur, we will travel on foot in case I am wrong and we find any other clues on the way there. Arrange the necessary supplies – food, bedding.” The two bow at the prince and quickly leave the room, relieved to leave Kili to deal with Thorin flaring temper.

“What is the deal between you and Thranduil?” Kili asks when they are left alone. “I know he abandoned our people and clearly you despise him for that. But this hatred, it’s seated much deeper. None of the others who fled Erebor with you harbour this strength of feeling.”

“It is not your business,” Thorin frowns at him.

“You’re wrong,” Kili retorts. “Since we are about to go wandering into Thranduil’s kingdom I think it is very much my business to know what is going on between you two.” Once upon a time he would have bolted at the look that crosses Thorin’s face. But he’s grown to be his equal now and will not bow to his lover’s temper that easily anymore. He throws his arms around Thorin and presses his forehead against him. He knows pushing Thorin will only feed the flame, so he tries a softer approach. “My love, please tell me.”

Thorin is silent for a long time, clearly battling with himself whether or not to tell his consort. Finally he removes himself from Kili’s embrace and walks towards the other side of the room. “There is some history between us,” he mumbles.

Kili’s mouth falls open. That is the very last comment he had expected from Thorin. “What?!” he manages to bring out as he walks up to Thorin.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Thorin sighs as he turns around to face his love, although he stares at the floor, rather than at Kili’s face. “Dwalin and I… things had started to crumble between us before we left Erebor. We both knew that we were not each other’s One, although we enjoyed each other’s company. But our relationship was based mostly on the physical connection we had.

When Thranduil came to Erebor to pledge his support to my grandfather, well…”

“Well what?” Kili prompts when Thorin doesn’t continue.

“There was something between us, a connection. And after we all had dinner, he sought me out in my rooms.”

They look at each other now and Kili’s eyes are so huge they look like they could burst out of their sockets. “Don’t get any ideas, nothing like that happened,” Thorin quickly wipes the indecent thoughts from Kili’s mind. “We just… kissed…” the last word trails off into a whisper.

“Nothing real would ever have come from it, Thranduil already had his sons and it would never have been accepted by either of our people. Maybe more would have happened if Smaug had not come. I don’t know. When Thranduil had come to offer us help but then turned his back … Well, let’s just say it wasn’t just an insult to our people…”

Kili looks at the sadness on Thorin’s face. And all is crystal clear now. If the young prince Thorin had been in love with Thranduil and had expected his love to rescue his people… the devastation of having been abandoned like that would have been twofold and the rejection very personal indeed.

“No one must ever know of this,” Thorin’s voice is serious. “It is in the past.”

And Kili simply responds by holding his beloved. Indeed it is in the past and what Thranduil threw away so casually is now his to cherish forever. And he will never make the same mistake as the Elvenking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> khak ar oinach = khuzdul explicit, literally meaning shit on honour  
> tȗlli shirumund = beardless bastard


End file.
